


The Beard Fic

by LapfulofMisha



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:17:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapfulofMisha/pseuds/LapfulofMisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>self-explanatory</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

Weeks had passed since she’d last seen the Doctor. He’d told her he’d be gone awhile this time. Something about negotiating a truce for a planet where the indigenous race of giant stick-bugs wanted access to the lava rivers, and the Screaming Rocks that lived in the lava rivers wanted the giant stick-bugs’ legs for ceremonial offerings.

Clara wanted to come along of course, because her mental image of the Doctor negotiating with _screaming rocks_ couldn’t possibly do justice to the reality. But he’d refused, saying that it wouldn’t be safe if the two races became violent. Clara had insisted that she would, in fact, _gladly_ risk her life to see _stick bugs_ fighting _rocks_. He’d rolled his eyes, said, “that’s the problem!”, got back in the Tardis, and left.

She hated to admit it, but she missed him tremendously. Clara Oswald, strong independent woman, fearless adventurer, _teacher of Courtney Woods_ , for fuck’s sake . . . missed him. A lot. 

And in the time she’d been alone, she’d realized something. With Danny gone, there really wasn’t much here for her anymore. She loved her job, yes, but when compared with the experiences she’d had over the last few years, well. It really wasn’t even a choice.

She’d decided to leave her flat and move into the Tardis. She was going to become his full time companion. She couldn’t wait to tell him and see his reaction.  

If he ever got _back._

Clara stood watching the stars out the window. She wondered if he could see any of the same ones. She tried desperately not to think of his face. His gorgeous, delicate hands. His huge blue eyes. His smile that could light up entire planets. And the soft, silver curls that carelessly took on a life of their own and scattered themselves perfectly across his head. And curled so delicately around the nape of his neck.

She could write poetry about those curls.

 _Clara, stop this!_ She chastised herself. _You’re only making things worse for yourself!_

Sighing, she turned from the window and went to her bedroom. She changed into pajama pants and a camisole, and crawled into bed. She snuggled deep into the covers.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard it: the screeching of the Tardis.  It was materializing in her bedroom. She sat bolt upright in bed.

The Tardis door opened, and the Doctor emerged, looking exhausted. She immediately barraged him with questions.

“Where have you been? It couldn’t have taken this long to sort out rocks and bugs- “

She stopped, her eyes widening as she got a good look at his face. 

“What’s the matter with you?” asked the Doctor wearily. “Why are you staring at me like that? Have I grown a second head or something?”

Part of her wanted to be angry at him for staying away, for not contacting her, but she just couldn’t. Not with all the floof covering his face. Apparently, whatever he’d been doing must have been intense, and he’d forgotten to shave.

She walked over to him, and he tentatively held his arms out, expecting a hug. Instead she buried her fingers in the fuzzy hair on his cheeks.

 “Oh my _god_ , that is _adorable_!” she giggled. “Where are your _lips_?”

He dropped his arms and looked down at Clara, confused.

Clara’s face glowed with delight. Her fingers traced the fuzz around his lips, pushing it away to expose his mouth. The hair was silky soft but prickly at the ends, and Clara thought of the baby owls the biology teacher had brought to school a few weeks ago.

“You look like a fluffy baby owl!” she blurted. “A silver, fluffy baby owl!”

“Clara, what’s gotten into you? Are we- are we not doing the hugging now? I have just kind of gotten used to that, and now you’re doing . . . what exactly _are_ you doing?“

She blinked, realizing finally that the Doctor was speaking to her.

“What? Of course we can do the hugging,” she said softly. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down so she could nestle her face against the soft beard. It felt like snuggling up against a kitten.

After a few seconds, she let go of him.  Now that she was satisfied that he was safe, and he was finally in her presence, she couldn’t help but unleash a little hell.

“Why haven’t you called me? I don’t suppose it occurred to your massive time lord brain that I might be worried about you? It’s been _weeks_! You can’t just abandon me like that!”

He had walked over to her mirror and was staring at his face in all three panels. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

“Weeks?” he repeated, looking around at her. “Well. That explains this then.” He absently touched his face with his long, elegant fingers. “Why do you think I look like a baby owl?”

“Don’t you dare change the subject. And don’t you _dare_ pretend that this doesn’t matter! Or that _you_ don’t matter to _me_.” Her eyes were drawn to his lips and the glorious hair surrounding them. She shook her head, reminding herself that she was _angry_ with him.

He walked over to her, self-consciously running his hand over his fuzzy face. He reached over and touched her bare arm, standing very close to her.

“Clara, I didn’t realize . . . Did you really think I abandoned you?”

She tried to ignore the warm tingling in her arm where he was touching her. He was so close to her that she could feel his body heat. And the way he was looking at her . . . as if she were the only thing in the Universe that mattered.

“Well, I- “

He looked so hurt, she couldn’t bear it.

“I knew you’d be back, alright? It’s just – it would have been nice to know that you were okay!”

He scoffed. “Clara, I have lived well over two thousand years. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

She sighed. “Look, Fluffy, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s impossible to stay angry at you right now with that _face_. Besides, I have something I want to tell you.” She smiled, grabbed his hand, and pulled him down onto the bed to sit next to her.

“What’s wrong with my face? If you’re so bothered by my having a beard, I’ll go shave it off.”

“Good GOD no!” Clara exclaimed. “Don’t EVER shave it off!”

 He looked at her curiously, then looked down at his hands. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

Clara suddenly felt nervous. What if he didn’t actually want her along? He seemed to value his privacy. What if he told her no?

She cleared her throat. “Well, I just think that it’s a bad idea for you to be alone so much.”

“Clara-“

“I want to come with you,” she said quickly. “I want to stay with you on the Tardis.” She held her breath, searching his face for a reaction.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a low voice, his face deadly serious. “Do you understand what you’re asking?”

“You have become my world, Doctor. Being without you is almost more than I can beard.  I mean _bear_. More than I can bear.”

He rolled his eyes. In his deep Scottish accent, he said, “Clara! It’s just a beard! We are trying to have a serious conversation here!”

She glanced at him sideways, smirking, trying to pretend her insides weren’t churning, waiting for him to say yes. “Do you want me along or not? 

“Of course I do, Clara.  I just don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Well. I can take care of myself, can’t I?”

He sighed, and flopped backward onto the bed. “Honestly I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now. The flllickafalluhberrrrabus, that is, the Screaming Rocks, were ruthless and vile. Getting them to agree to a truce was exhausting. If you don’t mind, I’m going to close my eyes for a moment.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

“How can I say no to you, Clara?”

“Good.” She flopped back onto the bed next to him, grinning.

“Clara?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Do you really think I look like a baby owl?” He turned his head to look at her. His face was so close to hers she could almost kiss him with the slightest movement of her neck.

“I think you look gorgeous,” she whispered, letting her eyes roam down to his lips. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

 

  


 

 

 


	2. Beard Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor puts his floofy beard to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that Twelve is absolutely clueless when it comes to sex. So that's the angle I wrote from. :) Fluffy, adorable, clueless yet talented Doctor!!!!!

“Doctor, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Clara rolled over on the bed and put her hand on his face.

He looked at her, a little shocked, a little curious, maybe even a little eager.

“Why? You’ve never done that before. I mean, not with me. I know you’ve done the kissing with other people-”

Clara’s lips pulled up in a grin. “Are you nervous?”

He didn’t answer her. He was looking intently at her lips.

 _Well, let’s get started_ , Clara thought. Slowly she touched his lips with hers. They were thin and soft and warm. As she kissed him, her lips and face were blessed with the sensation of fluffy, prickly facial hair, which tickled all the way to her core.

The Doctor pulled back slightly and bashfully asked, “Should I use my tongue?”

Clara was already squirming from the need between her legs. She’d been licking inside his mouth with very little response. “For gods sake, Doctor, YES!”

He rolled over and pulled her on top of him in one fluid movement. Clara squealed. She couldn’t help herself. He was shockingly strong, considering how thin he was. His hand was reaching down her pajama pants and cupping her ass. He squeezed it gently as he lifted his head and began kissing her for real.

She leaned down and sucked gently on his tongue, delighting in the way his chin floof scratched against her face. She buried her hands in the soft curls on his head and pulled him back so she could look at him. His normally pale blue eyes had turned to dark sapphires. He was enjoying this.

Smirking, she began a deeper exploration of his mouth. Careful and slow, taking her time (as frustrating as it was, in truth she wanted to shag his brains out with an urgency she hadn’t ever felt with anyone else). She covered every accessible inch of his mouth with her tongue. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

“Um, Doctor…”

“Why’d you stop?” He was a little breathless, his hair tousled, his beard floof disheveled - which made Clara’s desire to shag him _till even the Tardis felt it_ even more sweetly torturous.

“You’re supposed to close your eyes when you kiss someone,” she breathed.

“Why? I want to look at you. You’re beautiful.”

“Because having your eyes open is just . . . wrong.” She reached up gently with her fingers and closed his eyes.”

The Doctor moved to kiss her again. “I think I’m beginning to understand why you lot enjoy kissing so much.”

Clara laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.” She pointedly glanced down between them, raising her eyebrows at the increasingly hard evidence of his “understanding”.

“Let’s try something even better,” Clara suggested.

“What’s wrong with the kissing? I like the kissing.”

Clara couldn’t believe it. He was actually _pouting._ But a girl could only hold out so long, especially with a gorgeous older man in her bed.

A _floofy_ gorgeous older man.

The pouting turned to a look of concern.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, looking so adorable and sweet and nervous that Clara was sure she would die from an overkill of, well, adorableness.

“Not at all. But we need to put that fluffy beard of yours to good use. I want you to put that floof and those lips and that tongue of yours down here.”

She sat up, smiling, straddling his legs, and slid her pajama pants and light blue lace panties down over her hips. The Doctor watched her intently as she placed her hand between her legs, rubbing gently, getting herself wet.

“Clara? You have your own floof. Why are you so interested in mine?”

Clara laughed out loud. How anyone so ancient, whose intellect was on a plane so far above humanity’s that it was unfathomable, who’d seen wars and death and the birth of stars . . . how he could be so absolutely _innocent_ was absurdly hilarious.

“Doctor you are the most amazing man I have ever been with. You are just so . . . perfect. Just let me take the lead on this one, okay?”

“I don’t know, Clara, I think I have a pretty good idea what you want.”

This time the Doctor reached under her arms and gently laid her flat on her back. He unconsciously licked his lips, staring at her opening. He slid her panties and pajama pants the rest of the way off her legs, and then put his face where she indicated.

Clara gasped as the wiry, fluffy, soft but prickly hair stroked the inside of her thighs. She clutched the bed sheets when she felt his tongue enter her. Squirming did nothing to alleviate the tickling sensation coursing all through her insides and down her legs. Not that she wanted to alleviate it.

He relentlessly thrust his tongue into her. His hands grabbed her legs, spread them wider for easier access. She slid his hands into his curly hair and pushed him down harder into her, desperately needing him to fill her up. She was dripping wet, and he was lapping up the taste of her. He finally found her clit. All the while, the scruffy beard scratched the tender skin inside her thighs, reddening it. As he stroked her with his tongue, she pulled his hair – hard, gasping.

“Doctor! Jesus where did you learn to do that? No, don’t answer, just keep, OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

Her back arched as she bucked, but he kept with her. And for once, Clara Oswald was absolutely incapable of speech. She fell back to the bed, feeling boneless and light, like she could float amongst the stars forever.

The Doctor slowly withdrew, staring at Clara’s blissed out expression.

“Did I do that? Did I make you look like that?” he asked with wonder.

“Oh my God,” Clara responded. “Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever, shave.”

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. He looked so sweet, so awed. His eyes were shining and dark, his hair was mussed from her pulling it, his beard had soft, glorious, floofy little curls in it. His lips were swollen and pink. He was so sweet, so tender, so caring, so loving.

Clara decided he deserved a little something in return.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If there is interest, chapter two will consist entirely of SMUT  
> Also, fuck my life.


End file.
